January 03, 2012

Here is a smattering of what our contributors were drinking over the holidays...

Lenn Thompson: Troeg's Brewery Perpetual IPASometimes, a brewery's top-flight reputation can almost be a hindrance. Troeg's Brewery is one of my favorite east coast breweries. Of course they brew one of my all-time faovrites -- Nugget Netcar -- but all of their stuff is good, even the stuff made in styles that I don't typically reach for.

So when I saw this for the first time on my local beer shop's shelf on New Year's Eve, I grabbed it without thinking. My instincts told me that Troeg's knows their way around hops and that this is a beer I'd probably love.

And... well... it's a good beer. Not something I'd seek out again, but not something I'd not drink happily. My expectations were high and as such, perhaps this beer had little chance of meeting them.

It's balanced and very citrusy in its hop profile -- but seems almost light on the palate (even at 7.5% abv), lacking the malty backbone that many of my favorite IPAs have.

Of course, if it had that backbone, it'd be an awfully lot like Nugget Nectar, which it's not. Expectations can be a bitch.

Evan Dawson: Dominus Estate 1991 Napa Valley<Some generous friends shared a magnum of this wine to help us count down to 2012. And what a way to do it. The next time someone tells you that Napa can't make elegant wines, don't believe it.

The winemaking is impeccable, but that's perhaps not even doing it justice. Proprietor Christian Moueix has explained that he refuses to acidify under any circumstances. He instructs crews to pick earlier than many Napa producers. And he decided to increase yields when everyone else seemed to be cutting yields; Moueix has said that this keeps the vines in balance and allows for lower-alcohol, physiologically ripe wines with good acid. Just imagine.

One other word about this wine: Magnums are underrated, sexy, often unaffordable for me, and if I haven't mentioned it yet, sexy.

Happy New Year, indeed.

Tracy Weiss: Apple-Cinnamon Maker's MarkImagining a snow-covered scene complete with pre-midnight snow angels, this updated classic would be the perfect drink to warm up our celebration. And what’s easier than throwing cinnamon sticks and sliced Fuji Apples into a container with a bottle I already had on hand?

As the cocktail marinated for three days, I looked on, as proud as if I had distilled it myself.

Fantastically mild weather ‘forced’ us to abandon the hot toddy portion of the agenda. Instead, we threw back the apple bourbon unadorned or with a splash of Canada Dry Ginger Ale. The result: holiday fun in a glass. The blend was smoky, earthy, smooth, and honeyed – the combination you’d expect from the simple sum of these parts. It reminded me of an alcoholic breakfast cereal, not that I’d recommend imbibing that early in the a.m.

Perhaps I’ll get my chance to sample this heated beverage as intended in a winter landscape later this year. But for now, Apple Cinnamon Maker’s Mark set the tone for a quiet cozy celebration.

Rochelle Bilow: A Finger Lakes DuoMy boyfriend’s (who took this picture) birthday was last week, or, as I’ve come to call it: his excuse for breaking into our mosttreasured corner of the wine cellar.

The two wines he chose to have before and with dinner couldn’t have been more different: a Ravines 2008 Argetsinger Dry Riesling, and a 2009 Dr. Konstantin Frank 2009 Cuvee d’Amour.

We’d been saving the Argetsinger mostly out of deference and respect – we were afraid no occasion was grand enough to open it. I’m glad we did, though, because I don’t remember the last time I had a riesling that pure and honest. The flavors were layered – was that a gentle trace of floral honey I detected? Lime candies? – but they were clean and easily understood.

Terroir is a difficult thing to define, on paper or in the glass, but I think that this wine exemplifies it well. (Of course, it helps to know a bit about grower Sam Argetsinger and his commitment to his vines.) My only regret is that we didn’t buy more than one bottle – I’d like to see how it changes in a year, two, three.

I remember tasting the Cuvee d’Amour at Dr. Frank last summer and thinking “Hm! How interesting!” Five months later, I still find it quite interesting, but not as pleasant. There’s a bit too much twang and wang for me, with an almost-sour finish. It did improve – as most wine does – with dinner. An intensely flavored lamb burger seemed to speak its language. The grapes are native to Sibera and Northern China, admittedly placing this wine out of my knowledge zone. I seem to remember our taster that day suggesting we cellar it for ten years, but who am I to argue with a birthday boy? Anyway, I see no reason why we can’t try again with another bottle.

It was a mild grey New Year’s Eve when our car pulled into the dirt parking lot of the Southold Fish Market. Out past the fish market’s docks, the water of Southold Bay was calm and glassy as several gulls and a snowy egret flapped across the pristine surface.

We had come to sample a local seafood favorite harvested from those very waters: Peconic Bay Scallops. There are few places to get them as fresh as The Southold Fish Market.

Stepping into the small market, there were locals lined up to grab all kinds of seafood before the market closed for their January vacation. The market is short on frills. Inside, a small, carpeted hallway opens up to a large concrete floored workroom where the most recent “catch” is tossed on ice or in steel bins for sale.

I weaved my way around a worker shucking oysters and found Charlie Manwaring shelling shrimp just before he headed out on vacation. Charlie has worked in the fishing industry his whole life and took over the market in 2000. With both his father and grandfather still spending each day out on the water, fishing and seafood is in his blood. He prepares the market’s seafood from his family’s recipes and ever since it’s been a prime spot for a fresh, local seafood lunch.

Amidst the activity of cleaning, shelling, and shucking seafood, Charlie and I chatted about the current Peconic Bay Scallop season. “For us, the season is from the first weekend in November ‘till around March. I think we’ll have scallops all the way through this year. It’s a good year and there’s scallop all the way from Montauk to Flanders Bay (the western edge of the Peconic Bay)."

He continued to explain that due to recent regulations, limiting the size of scallop the fishermen can keep, the scallops are making a huge comeback. “As long as they’re breeding, it’s a good thing for all of us.” These new regulations along with the return of bay grasses have contributed to better harvests in the last few years.

Excited to try this year’s harvest, I let Charlie get back to shelling shrimp and was handed off to his sister to put in an order: a basket of fried Peconic bay scallops and fried local oysters.

Our food was ready after a short walk out on the docks. The breading was light and the surprisingly sweet, nutty, briny taste of the scallops washed over our palates. The oysters were small but packed a perfect salty and buttery flavor. Normally, fried food isn’t paired with anything fresh, but their cole slaw and choice of a side salad or thin cut French fries were all pleasant, fresh additions to the meal. As my wife put it- “There’s fried food, and then there’s this deliciousness.”

If you ever pick up a pound of Peconic Bay scallops for home, be sure to not overcook or over-flavor them -- little salt, lemon juice, and maybe a light breading is all that’s needed.

But if you’re up for a drive or out on the North Fork, The Southold Fish Market is the perfect spot to taste the bay’s harvest on the water. Order a few baskets of oysters, scallops, and steamers and have a seat on a picnic table by the bay to appreciate the taste of fresh, local food plucked by folks who’ve fished these waters for generations.

January 02, 2012

I had arrived at Tap & Barrel just a few minutes before Rich Thatcher, long enough to have studied the menu of 52 tap offerings -- well, it was 51 that night. Nothing was on tap #42. I had asked the bartender if the absence of a beer on tap number 42 had any special significance. 42 is just one of those special numbers. Just saying “forty-two” can conjure up whole worlds, universes even, in the imagination. Locked inside that number are the deep mysteries of life, the universe, and everything. To contemplate that number is to seek after the meaning of it all. To penetrate the mystery is to taste the good life. And not having a beer on tap #42 just might be a sign that ultimate meaning is unattainable.

Or perhaps, there was a beer on tap #42 and the fact that it couldn’t be named was further evidence of this tap’s role as a gateway to the unknown.

I ordered a pint of Greenport Harbor’s Chinook Red. When Rich arrived, he glanced at the taps and ordered a glass of Spider Bite’s Boris the Spider Russian Imperial Stout. “How is it?” I asked. “Too cold,” he said. “I’ll let it warm up.”

Rich wears a couple of hats in the local beer scene. As president of the Long Island Beer and Malt Enthusiasts, a craft beer appreciation and brewing club with over 500 members, he commands an army of drinkers who have helped shape the craft beer culture on Long Island through their patronage of craft beer bars like Tap & Barrel. Rich is also craft beer salesman. He works for one of the Island’s largest beer distributorships and he represents a number of craft brands (such as Avery Brewing Company). So when Rich and I get together, he tells me all about the business side of things, and the games that some distributors play to influence what a beer bar puts on tap for its customers.

Even though I’m on a slow track into the beer business (on the beer production side) I will try to hold onto my outsider status as long as possible. The benefit of being an outsider is that my imagination is not inhibited by trivialities such as facts. You see, as someone who is ignorant of the realities of running a craft beer bar (or store or bottle shop) I am free to imagine ideal, beery Utopias where bar owners can put whatever beer on tap that they want.

So it’s a little annoying to me to hear Rich tell me, “No, Donavan, Tony has to deal with these specific distributors and sometimes the beer he wants just won’t make it to him for reasons that have to do with how the system works, or doesn’t work, depending on how you look at it.” Tony is Anthony Celentano, the owner of Tap & Barrel.

Rich already knows about my dream of Long Island becoming the nation’s craft beer Mecca. “I see a future for Long Island where there is peaceful coexistence between hundreds of nanobreweries, all supplying the craft beer bars within twenty miles of the most diverse selection of quality beers available.” In such a dream future, Tony would be able to get any beer style he wants directly from a local brewer. He would be the curator of magnificent collection of locally brewed craft beer.

Despite the limitations of the three-tier distribution system, Tony has done pretty well in selecting a line-up for his 52 taps that balances locally brewed craft beer with the more respected beers available from regional and national craft brewers.

After polishing off the satisfyingly hoppy Red Ale from Greenport Harbor, I wanted something else that was local. “What do you think, Rich?” I asked. “Is Southampton still local?” Rich just gave me a look. “You’re kidding, right?”

A tap just to the left of me promised Southampton Christmas Ale. Regardless of precisely where Southampton Christmas Ale is brewed, I turn a blind-eye and enjoy it each year at this time, during the holiday season.

Finding an excellent Bière de Garde isn’t easy. There are not many of them. Bière de Garde is a French-style, well northern French. The border in that part of the world has drifted back and forth over the centuries so northern France and southern Belgium share a lot of the same beer culture. Perhaps by some unspoken agreement France gets to claim Bière de Garde, Bière de Mars, Bière de Anything (?) as its own leaving the more ecclesiastical brews to the Trappists in Belgium -- France, as ever, retaining its status as a secular state.

Another of my favorite (the favorite?) beer styles, Saison, appears to be in dispute. Sometimes a Saison is French, sometimes it’s Belgian. So the struggle over borderlines continues, but the modern battlefield is shaped by malt and yeast rather than by barbed wire. And that’s the better way I should think.

Of course it would not be at all appropriate to serve a Bière de Garde in a shaker pint (which would be the equivalent of presenting a fillet mignon in the bottom of a galvanized steel bucket). Our affable bartender presented my Southampton Christmas Ale in an elegant stemmed tulip glass, the reddish beer shaped into an attitude of jubilation by the narrow glass, and topped with a beige-tinted layer of lacy foam. (N.B. On a recent trip out to the Southampton Publick House I ordered a glass of the Christmas Ale and they served it in a shaker pint, so even at the source you aren’t guaranteed proper service.)

Bière de Garde is a nice style for winter drinking. At 7.2% ABV it’s right at the threshold of perceptible alcohol flavor that imparts what we beer geeks call “a warming effect.” In addition to being warming, the beer has a pleasant spicy character that comes from the hops. The hop variety used in this beer is called Strisslespalt and it’s rarely used in anything but French and Belgian-style beers. However, the head brewer at our not-yet-open brewery, Yuri, designed an “English” Ale hopped exclusively with Strisslespalt just to see how it would turn out. Our English-French-Belgian fusion beer spiced with Strisslespalt is on tap at my house. So when I plunge my nose into the tulip glass brimming with Southampton Christmas Ale, I’m greeted by familiar aromas.

My drinking plan was to end with a glass of the Spider Bite Boris the Spider Imperial Russian Stout. Rich was kind enough to share a sip from his glass once it had warmed a little. Boris is a ten percenter, that is, its ABV is up in the double digits. It’s warming, but in a subtle (possibly) dangerous way.

The bartender, quiet rightly, served Boris in a small snifter glass (probably only 8 ounces). The snifter, also on a stem, has a large bowl, but instead of flaring out at the top, it flares in. The idea behind the design of the snifter (as the name might suggest) is to concentrate the aroma of the beer and direct those delectable vapors to the drinker’s nose. It’s a good glass to use for aromatic beers. But it’s also the style of glass we beer drinkers sip strong beers from. Most highly alcoholic beer-styles (Barleywines and Imperial Anythings) will (should) be served in a snifter.

While I was enjoying the smooth, chocolate mocha Boris from my diminutive snifter, I related to Rich my thoughts about the difference between a multi-tap bar and a craft beer bar. Just a couple of weeks ago, I’d visited the Long Island Ale House and I had written an account of that visit for the New York Cork Report. Multi-tap bars (usually sports bars) will typically have a selection of craft beer along with industrially produced beers and major-brand imports. This is a good thing in general, but I have a few concerns.

The multi-tap bar, since it isn’t a craft beer bar, doesn’t treat the craft beer any differently than the industrial beer. So when you order a beer in a multi-tap bar, you are likely to get your Russian Imperial Stout in a frosty shaker pint. We beer geeks might snicker at this faux pas, but think about the beer newbie who is craft-curious and just making their first baby steps into the world of real beer. Not only is the beer served incorrectly, the fact that the newbie drinker (used to industrial light lager) will try to knock back his pint of Imperial Stout. It doesn’t taste like it’s overly alcoholic, so he orders another. Then it’s halftime and he gets up and tries to walk.

As a craft brewer and craft brewery owner, I’m connected to my beer. When I send a keg of beer out into the world, that beer is my representative. And I want to impress people. I want my beer to impress them. Putting my beer in a bar that is unable to present my beer the way I envision is a scary prospect. I don’t want my beer served in a frosty shaker pint because I know that it won’t taste the way I designed it to taste. Admittedly, this the the concern of the brewer. It’s not just a financial consideration, I know the work and time that went into making that glass of beer, and so I want to see that the beer gets to the drinker the way it was meant to be. Therefore, a proper craft beer bar with knowledgeable staff and an experienced cellarman will maximize the chance that my beer will be served appropriately and in the best condition.

We get back to regular programming post-holidays with one of the wines I enjoyed most during our brief hiatus -- Anthony Nappa Wines 2010 Spezia ($18) a gewurztraminer for gewurztraminer lovers.

Spezia is Italian for "spice" -- and this is a wine that delivers a heaping pile of varietal character.

Bursting with complex aromas of tropical fruit, peach, gingery spice, and rose petal the nose also features a grapefruit-spice-herb note that is reminiscent of some heavily-hopped India Pale Ales I've enjoyed.

Though hefty at 14.6% abv, the dry, mouth-filling palate wears that alcohol well, offering a melange of tropical fruits -- pineapple, mango and papaya -- with notes of fig, spicy candied ginger, and more of that floral-herbal quality. Ripe, but focused, there is great balance here with subtle varietal bitterness and beautifully incorporated acidity.

I enjoyed a couple glasses of this the day after Christmas at my sister in-law's house along side a maple-glazed ham. It was one of the best pairings of my holiday season.